The Call or, The Rules to Engagement
by Kamp
Summary: SpikeAngel. Spike's obsession with the Slayer becomes increasingly dangerous as he looks to past relationships on how to proceed. Buffy, unable and unwilling to deal with him, calls Angel to take care of it.


Author: Kamp West

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me but to their respective owners. However, if I could write an episode for this series, I doubt that it would ever be televised.

Title: The Call; or, The Rules to Engagement

Status: Incomplete. First chapter finished. On hold indefinitely.

Pairing: Spike/Angel (but starts out Spike/Buffy).

Summary: Spike's obsession with the Slayer becomes increasingly dangerous as he looks to past relationships on how to proceed. Buffy, unable and unwilling to deal with him, calls Angel to take care of it.

Warnings: Homosexual, heterosexual relationships. Violence. Strong language.

Author's Note: I began this story a long time ago in the library of my high school; I have now graduated from college. I remember deciding to finish this story when I had more time. Unfortunately, the story stopped heading the way that I wanted it to and certain things within the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ series upset me enough to stop watching. So any stories within this fandom take place outside the timeline of the series and are based on information from the first few seasons.

-------

Pain is never the masochist's intended indulgence.

-------

Scene: Buffy slams door in Spike's face 

Spike smoked a cigarette as he watched the front window of the Summers' home. All of the lights were off, of course. Joyce and Dawn had already gone to bed. But Buffy was still up. He had watched her shadow on the curtains make a phone call. Now she was standing there... doing nothing.

Spike shook his head and smiled as he thought of her, his hand moving to touch the bridge of his nose. That was her favorite spot, of course. His nose. He supposed that she liked the simplicity of it. No bone, just cartilage, so that one hard punch could easily draw blood. Very simple. And it healed quickly too, of course. No marks or traces left behind. But there were other places where blood could be drawn quickly, other places where the wound did not heal so fast and the blood lingered.

Spike shook his head and tossed the ashed cigarette to the ground. Angelus had always preferred his mouth. A good punch to the mouth, a split lip, and red blood that dripped from a white chin to a pale neck. Fierce kisses would always follow next. Fierce kisses and probing tongues, both seeking, sharing, spilling the blood, his blood.

But Spike supposed that Buffy saw enough blood in her work. And she didn't want this to be work. No. She didn't. So she would stay away from the blood play, away from the passion, the love. He would forgive that. He would let her do this her own way. But he wanted to know how she expected him to follow the rules when she wouldn't tell him what they were.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Then Spike looked up again as Buffy made her fourth call of the night.

-------

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click._

"Angel Investigations, helping the helpless. Unfortunately, we're not here to help you right now. Leave your name, number, and situation. One of us will get back to you as soon as possible. That is... if you're not already dead by the time we get this message. Oh. And we accept all major forms of payment."

_Beep._

"Umm. Hello? Angel? This is Buffy. We... I have a problem. _:sigh:_ I'm not sure how to say this or where to begin. And, well, I should probably wait until... well... _:humph:_ I guess I should talk to you in person. But this is kinda important and I need to talk to you now. I have --"

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click._

"Angel Investigations, helping the helpless. Unfortunately, we're not here to help you right now. Leave your name, number, and situation. One of us will get back to you as soon as possible. That is... if you're not already dead by the time we get this message. Oh. And we accept all major forms of payment."

_Beep._

"Okay. Let's try that again. Your message thing is really short. I guess that just keeps people from rambling... _:long pause:_ Like I'm doing now, right? Well. Anyway. I guess I should get to my point. I don't want to get cut off ag--"

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click._

"Angel Investigations, helping the helpless. Unfortunately, we're not here to help you right now. Leave your name, number, and situation. One of us will get back to you as soon as possible. That is... if you're not already dead by the time we get this message. Oh. And we accept all major forms of payment."

_Beep._

"Okay. That was so not funny. That wasn't even as long as the first time. You so need to fix this thing. _:deep breath:_ Angel. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I've got so much to worry about right now. And I don't need some stupid answering machine cutting me off everyti--"

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click._

"Angel Investigations, helping the helpless. Unfortunately, we're not here to help you right now. Leave your name, number, and situation. One of us will get back to you as soon as possible. That is... if you're not already dead by the time we get this message. Oh. And we accept all major forms of payment."

_Beep._

"Angel. This is Buffy. Spike's causing trouble in Sunnydale. Meet me at the Magic Box tomorrow night."

_Click._

-------

Angel yawned as he walked down the stairs to the lobby. He was tired. After fighting a Kraxsurs demon all night, sleep would have been a welcomed reprieve. Instead, Angel had been plagued by shrill female voices that beeped, clicked, and rang... repeatedly. He rubbed his eyes warily before reaching the lobby floor and looked up.

Cordelia was at the front desk, holding the phone in her hands. She was frowning slightly, lost in her own thoughts.

Angel walked up to the desk and waved a hand in front of her face. She blinked and looked up at him.

"Anything wrong?"

Cordelia studied him for a moment, then looked at her hands and sighed. "Angel... I think you need to hear this."

-------

End Chapter the First

-------

Like _fresh meat loves salt_, an author is bland unless a reviewer is willing to add flavor.

If this chapter is interesting enough, then I might decide to continue it. But as it stands, my muse has wandered away from this story and continues to make excuses.

Kamp West


End file.
